


All Dogs Go To Heaven, Hopefully

by Mishafied



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Been playing too much Fallout 4 so dog!Poe ended up looking like Dogmeat, Community: tfa_kink, Fluff and Angst, He already has the puppy eyes down, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Poe Dameron makes a cute dog, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishafied/pseuds/Mishafied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe Dameron got a new job, a nice new apartment, got some new friends, and then somehow ended up turned into a dog. One of these things isn't like the others. It would be less of a worry without the whole 'ending up on doggy death row' business going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Dogs Go To Heaven, Hopefully

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on this prompt at tfa_kink: http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/3961.html?thread=9732473#cmt9732473
> 
> I'm evidently bad at sticking to prompts, but this prompt already had one fill that stuck closer to the request, so I went where the plot bunny took me.

“I should have known when you said you were leaving the Air Force that you wouldn’t be grounding yourself.”

Poe grinned at Jessika as she spoke; mostly because she was right. He’d been in the Air Force for twelve years now, and when he announced to his friends and his family that he was leaving, they’d all been stunned- until he’d mentioned that he was transferring into the Coast Guard to work search and rescue and train their recruits.

No one had been surprised after that. They all knew as well as Poe did that he would be flying until he physically couldn’t control a plane or helicopter anymore.

“What can I say, it just seemed like a good gig,” he said with a shrug, and Jessika rolled her eyes and held up her beer, tapping it against his. 

“You Air Force boys, really,” she said with a playfully teasing tone. “Couldn’t keep you down if you had a ball and chain strapped to both ankles.”

“As if the Marine helicopter crews are any better,” Poe pointed out. “We should probably head back. I have to be up early to go do all my paperwork.”

“Old man,” Jessika said with a wink, standing up and grabbing her hat off the table. “Will you survive a whole day of just paperwork? It’s like your kryptonite.”

Poe just elbowed her as he stood up and walked past her, riding high on the pleasant buzz from the drinks. He didn’t plan on getting drunk tonight- the only thing that would make paperwork worse was paperwork while hung over.

They made their way outside and started down the sidewalk toward their apartment building; Poe had just moved in down the hall from Jessika, as had been their plan as soon as they found out he’d gotten the transfer to the Coast Guard in the same city she was stationed in. It was nice to have a familiar face close by in a strange city like this, and her friends had quickly become Poe’s friends as well.

But tonight had just been him and Jessika celebrating, having a beer between friends and toasting his new job. 

They were deep in conversation and nearly missed the fact that an older woman had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and was staring at them- well, more like glaring, now that Poe got a better look. He and Jessika slowed with uncertainty, and Poe wondered what the hell they’d done to deserve a look like that. Hell, they weren’t even drunk or loud.

The woman clutched her purse close, her feet clad in bright blue heels and pressed close together, blue pencil skirt and white leather jacket all pressed and creased to perfection. Even her hair was curled in exaggerated, old-fashioned curls, and looked to be hairsprayed to the consistency of cement. Lines marred the skin around her eyes, the only real giveaway to her age aside from the mottled, thin skin on her hands.

“Soldiers,” she suddenly spat, like the word was a curse; Jessika was in her uniform, of course, having come straight from work, and Poe was in his Air Force shirt and tan and red jacket with his wings pinned on the front; it was obvious they weren’t civilians. But that had never been a problem before, and he wasn’t sure why it was now.

“Is there a problem?” Jessika asked, her voice already testy, and the woman sneered.

“No, you _wouldn’t_ think there was a problem, would you? I’m tired of all of you moving into my neighborhood. You have a base, and you should stay on it,” she complained. “Your energy is _bad_. It’s energy of violence. Of death.”

Poe stiffened. Okay, the lady was obviously off her rocker.

“What did you say?” Jessika asked, her fists clenching, but Poe grabbed her by the arm. 

“Hey, it’s not worth our time. Let’s just go,” he said, pulling insistently until Jessika finally allowed herself to be steered around the woman. The woman grabbed onto Poe’s arm as he passed and gave him a dark frown.

“Leave,” she said firmly. “Move away from here, or you will have problems.”

Poe yanked his arm out of her grasp before Jessika could get even more infuriated. “Whatever, lady,” he said, and he sped up his pace and practically dragged Jessika away. As soon as they’d gotten to the door of the building and into the lobby, he let her go and laughed nervously. “What the hell was that about? You didn’t tell me you had creepy, batshit crazy old ladies living around here.”

“Didn’t think I did. Been here three months and I haven’t seen her before,” Jessika muttered, her voice still strained with anger. “Whatever. She’s what, 60 years old? I could kick her ass. Don’t know about you, though. She might beat you down easy.”

With that bit of teasing the tension drained out of the situation, and Poe shrugged it off. Big cities had lots of people; some of them were bound to be a little ‘off’.

By the time he got back to his own apartment, he’d forgotten all about the encounter.

*** ~~~~~ ***

Poe just wanted to get home, kick back, and have a beer at the end of a long day.

It had been all paperwork at the downtown office today. Poe wanted to be in the air; he was at home behind the controls of a helicopter or a plane, not so much sitting in an office all day filling out forms. But it was a necessary evil to get out there and start doing his job; now that the red tape was done, next week he’d be in the air running drills.

He couldn’t wait. He was itching to fly again.

He took the shortcut home that Jessika had taught him, avoiding the streets that were more crowded by people getting off work for the day; the path wound from the bus stop through a couple of alleys and straight to his building. It wasn’t a well-known path- so needless to say, he was surprised when he turned the corner and almost ran straight into the old woman from yesterday. 

He didn’t see the dust in her hand until it was much too late; with one breath she blew it right into his face, and he stumbled back, the fine powder seeming to burn his throat as it was drawn into his lungs. His back hit the wall, but he was more concerned with the pain, the fiery friction in his throat and chest that left him gasping harshly for air. It felt like the dust was spreading inside him, infecting every cell and setting them aflame, leaving him struggling for every breath.

“Just stay calm, darling, it’ll be over soon,” he heard the woman say, her voice dripping honey and condescension, a stark and disturbing contrast to the fact that he was _dying_. He had to be. He couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, and the pain was spreading into his limbs now.

His legs gave out and he dropped down to his hands and knees in the alley, coughing up the tasteless powder, but the damage was obviously done. Sparks of light made it difficult to focus, but he was sure-

No, it couldn’t be. He was hallucinating.

The back of his hands weren’t sprouting dark brown fur. His jacket wasn’t pretty much _melting_ into his skin and changing to fur. That was _impossible_.

A hand touched the back of his head, and he tried to jerk away only to lose his balance and collapse to the filthy pavement, a moan of agony escaping him as he curled up against the pain. “Let it happen,” the woman’s voice said, distant and infuriating, and then there was a strange _crunch_ and the world went white and numb. 

Not really numb, no- the pain was so much that he felt like every nerve was overloaded, scraped raw, and he tried to scream but the only sound that left him was a ragged whine. He squeezed his eyes shut, felt his body twitching and jerking, and nearly passed out at a vicious wave of pain that slammed into him like a storm front into the broadside of a plane.

Then it was over.

The pain faded nearly as quickly as it had started. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, and what he saw was the first sign that something was really, really wrong- the colors were muted. Different. The woman was standing over him, and her vibrant blue heels were now a muted bluish-grey color. 

And then the smells hit him. It was so intense he nearly gagged, but that felt wrong, everything felt _wrong_.

He tried to speak, tried to ask her what she’d done to him, but it came out half-whine, half-growl. He couldn’t form the words; it was like his throat and tongue wouldn’t work. He tried to push himself up to his hands and knees, but he felt off balance, something was wrong with his legs, and-

Paws.

Oh, fuck.

Those weren’t hands. Those were paws.

_What the hell did you do?!_ He tried to yell, but it came out as a series of strained barks. Come to think of it- he went cross-eyed trying to get a better look at what seemed to be his muzzle.

A dog. She’d turned him into a _dog_.

“You’re so much more adorable like this,” the woman said, her voice louder than before, more grating. One of those overwhelming smells was definitely her perfume. Poe managed to make it onto all fours, stumbling before he started to adjust his balance. 

_Why?! Change me back!_ He tried to demand, but it once again came out as barking, and she laughed. Anger flooded through him, fury that felt strangely raw and primal in this new form, and before he even realized it, a growl was reverberating deep in his chest- and he snapped. Literally.

His teeth clamped down on her arm, not hard enough to break through the tough leather fabric of her coat, and she shouted in surprise and kicked at him hard. The blow knocked the wind from his lungs and he was thrown into the brick wall, and before he got his bearings, she was pulling her belt free from where it was cinched around the waistline of her dress under the jacket- and she grabbed his muzzle and pulled the leather strap painfully tight around it. 

“That was rude. You’re a bad dog,” she said, though she sounded more amused than angry. He tried to pull away from her, but she grabbed the scruff of his neck, and that- yeah, that was really uncomfortable. His nail scrabbled against the gravel underneath him as she yanked a leash from her purse and looped it around his neck, pulling it tight, nearly choking him. “Do you know what happens to bad dogs, Mr. Dameron? I did warn you that you would have problems if you stayed, and judging by your attitude, it seems that you didn’t plan to take my advice.”

Obviously, she didn’t wait for an answer from him. She started dragging him toward the mouth of the alley, and he braced his paws and tried to fight, but the leash cut off his air completely every time he yanked the other way. Slowly but surely, she pulled him to the street, opening the back door of her car.

“In,” she said, giving Poe an expectant look.

_No fucking way_ , he tried to reply, but all she heard was angry barking, muffled by the makeshift muzzle and roughened by the tight leash around his neck.

She rolled her eyes, grabbed the scruff of his neck, and dragged him forward into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind him.

He turned around on the seat and stopped, shocked still by what he saw- his own reflection in the glass. A large German Shepherd stared back at him, all tan and brown fur and large, dark brown eyes. He even caught a glimpse of a lighter patch of fur on his chest in the same shape as the wings that had been pinned on his jacket. He heard himself whine, and then the front door opened and shut, and he turned, ready to jump into the front seat to try and stop her. He needed to get out of this car.

He was stopped short- he couldn’t get to the front. There was a clear plastic barrier between the front and back seats, and he’d almost smacked into it nose first.

That meant she’d done this before; why else would she have that barrier up? The thought made him feel sick. What if she got to Jessika next?

The car lurched forward and sent him sprawling on the leather seat, and he had to drop down to his belly to avoid being thrown around at every turn. Where was she taking him? Did she have a kennel at her house full of dogs that used to be people? How many people had she done this to?

“If you soldiers want to act like uncivilized animals, I’ll give you a good excuse,” she was saying, glancing at him in the rearview mirror as she drove. “And since I know you want to ask, yes, there is a way to break the curse and change back, but there’s no point in telling you about it. It requires a kind of sacrifice that doesn’t come naturally to you arrogant young folk these days. You think putting on a uniform is sacrifice, that it earns you special treatment. I imagine this isn’t the kind of special treatment you expected, though. But it’s what you deserve.”

He wished she would stop talking. His head was spinning, and he needed out of here; all he wanted to know right now was where the hell she was taking him.

He didn’t have much more time to worry. She pulled to a stop after only a few minutes, getting out and walking into the building she’d parked in front of. Poe struggled to read the sign on the front; his color vision was distractingly muddied, but he finally made out the words ‘Gleeson County Humane Society’.

_No, no, no. You can’t leave me at the shelter! I’m not a dog! You can’t do this!_

Of course, his panicked words came out as muffled, frantic barking, just as the woman returned with two other people- a young woman and a young man, holding a stick with a loop on the end.

“See? He’s gone absolutely savage. He even tried to bite me!” the old woman was saying, putting on one hell of a show, tears in her eyes and all as she displayed the damage to the sleeve of her coat. “I simply can’t take care of such an aggressive dog anymore. I tried, for his poor late owner, but I just can’t.”

_No, don’t fucking listen to her! Please!_ Poe tried to yell, scratching at the leather upholstery of the car door, but the two workers only looked at him with disinterested frowns. The man finally stepped forward, opening the car door and blocking escape with the bulk of his body, and Poe cowered back as the man reached for him.

“Come on, you,” the man said, but Poe pressed against the far door, finally turning and trying to scratch at the handle to get it open. He couldn’t let them take him in there. He couldn’t.

A loop snapped tight around his neck, and he yelped and twisted to try and break free of it, but to no avail. He whined and scratched desperately at the leather as the man dragged him from the back of the car and onto the sidewalk, the stick keeping Poe from doubling back and trying to scratch or bite at the man.

“Yeah, he’s a feisty one, alright. Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll take him off your hands,” the younger woman was saying, and Poe made a desperate noise, fighting every inch as the man dragged him through the doors and into the shelter.

The smells and sounds were overwhelming, and only got worse when the man took him into the back, where the small kennels were lined up. Poe flinched and twisted against the loop of cord around his neck as dogs came barreling up to the doors of their kennels, barking furiously, paws pressed to the chain link gates. Some seemed friendly; others obviously were not.

At the end of the row, the man pushed him into an empty kennel, then reached down and pulled the leather strap off his muzzle. He closed the door most of the way before removing the leashes, stepping back and closing the gate just as Poe jumped up against it, his paws pressing painfully against the metal.

_Please, I’m not a dog! Don’t leave me here!_ He yelled to be heard over the other dogs, but the man just gave him a firm look, ignoring the panicked barking. He grabbed a red tag off a hook on the wall, and clipped it to the front of Poe’s cage, the black lettering standing out against the red- **CAUTION: AGGRESSIVE DOG. DO NOT HANDLE.**

…he was fucked. He was officially, completely fucked.

He was in a run-down midtown shelter crammed full of dogs, and he was _marked_. Instead of a scarlet letter, it was a red tag. Nobody adopted aggressive dogs. Hell, most of the perfectly nice dogs didn’t get adopted.

He dropped back down to all fours, looking around. There was a blanket on the cement floor, a bowl of water, and a dog of dry food. The chain link went all the way to the ceiling. There was no way out.

The dog across from him, a Labrador, stared at him with what looked like boredom, its chin on its paws as it sprawled near the door of its cage. Poe paced and whined, pushing against the door a few times, but it was no use.

He was exhausted. His side still hurt where she’d kicked him, his muzzle was aching from the leather strap, and the weariness that he felt now was bone deep, the adrenaline wearing off quickly. He dropped down on the blanket, which did little to cushion the cold cement underneath, and he tried to block out the sounds and smells.

He couldn’t really call it sleep. Every time he started to drift off, the noise or the pain would wake him again. That, and the idea that the woman might go after Jessika, and he couldn’t do anything to warn her.

Hell, he would probably be dead soon. Shelters didn’t keep ‘aggressive dogs’ hanging around for long.

Nonetheless, there was nothing he could do but wait.

*** ~~~~~ ***

The next two days passed in an unbearably slow haze. Not many people came by- the volunteers would take one look at the tag on his cage, and would use a broom to push him back while they replaced his food and water or cleaned up the cage. People came in looking to adopt, but one glance at that red tag and they were walking away before he could so much as figure out how this tail wagging thing worked.

Dogs wagged their tails when they were happy, as far as he knew, and he was as far from happy as a dog could get.

He barely ate. The food tasted like cardboard, and he was too stressed to be all that hungry. He watched as dogs came and went; the Labrador across from him went home with a happy young couple who only glanced at Poe with trepidation, keeping a comfortable distance away from his cage door.

The second day, in the evening, another person appeared at his cage door; a volunteer, from the symbol on his shirt. He was a handsome guy, dark skin and a kind face, the kind of guy Poe might have hit on at a bar; but this wasn’t exactly a bar. And Poe wasn’t exactly a human. He waited for the inevitable; he didn’t even bother to lift his head from his paws as the young man picked up his chart and looked over it.

“Hey, Tyler! What’s the story on this one?” the man called out, looking back down the hall.

“Old lady brought him in, said she took him in when his owner died, but he got aggressive. Took a chunk out of her sleeve, fought us tooth and nail all the way in here,” Tyler called back. “If you don’t feel comfortable switching out his bowls, I’ll do it.”

The young man looked down at Poe, who was still just waiting for the usual response- the moment when he would frown and walk away. But the guy studied him for a few long moments instead. “Nah, I got it,” he finally said, putting the chart back. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“The doctor comes in on Tuesdays to do the PTS dogs. He’s on the schedule for tomorrow morning,” the familiar voice called back, and Poe’s head jerked up in shock.

PTS- he knew what that had to stand for. Put to sleep. Euthanasia. 

He was getting _executed_ tomorrow.

He couldn’t restrain the anguished whine that tore from him throat. He didn’t want to die like this- he was a human being, he had a family, parents who loved him, friends- he didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve to die. The man at his cage door looked at him with what looked like surprise, and then reached for the latch on the door- without broom in hand.

“Finn, man, what are you doing? That dog’ll tear you up,” Tyler said, and the young man- Finn, it seemed- waved him off.

“I told you, I’ve got this. He’s just scared. I’ll be fine,” he said, and Poe struggled to his feet, his body weak and cramped after two days in a tiny cell and not a lot of food. Finn opened the door slowly and slipped inside, every move deliberate and cautious as he pulled the gate shut behind him.

“It’s okay, boy,” he said, his voice soothing, not loud or irritated or fearful like all the others who’d come by. Poe wondered what he should do- if he was too anxious, Finn might mistake it for aggression, like everyone else. He instead pressed his ears back close to his head, cowering down, waiting too see what Finn would do.

The man didn’t reach out to grab him. He didn’t even come closer. Instead, he slowly sat down against the wall, legs straight out on the floor, his feet nearly pressing against the opposite wall of the kennel.

Poe needed to do _something_. Needed to prove he wasn’t a bad dog, not an aggressive dog, that this was all a misunderstanding. He dropped down to his belly and crawled army- style over to the volunteer, and then he laid his head down on the man’s thigh with a soft whine.

_Please don’t be scared_ , he thought desperately, as though if he thought it hard enough the other man would hear it. Maybe he did, because Finn slowly reached out and lightly stroked his hand between Poe’s ears, and-

Oh. That was nice. No one had touched him except to restrain or hurt him since he got stuck in this body; he hadn’t even though about how one simple kind touch could feel like heaven after days of loneliness. 

“You’re not aggressive. You’re just scared, aren’t you?” Finn was saying, his voice still low and smooth as his hand stroked across Poe’s fur. Poe wanted to agree, wanted to kiss this beautiful boy for actually giving him a chance, but he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the moment. Instead, he just relaxed where he was, concentrating on the movement of Finn’s hand on his head and down his back.

If this was going to be the last nice thing he felt, he may as well indulge.

After a few minutes a shadow fell over them, and Poe stiffened as Tyler appeared at the cage door- none other than the same man who’d dragged him back here. “Jesus, Finn, what are you, Snow fuckin’ White? Come on, we’ve got ten other kennels to clean before we close up for the night. You shouldn’t waste your time with one that’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.”

“He shouldn’t be on the schedule. He’s not aggressive.”

“We don’t get to decide that. The director went over his file and made the call. Case closed. We’ve got plenty of dogs that aren’t fuckin’ bipolar that need homes,” Tyler said, and Poe couldn’t restrain the growl deep in his chest, his lip curling up at the man, teeth bared. Finn’s hand stilled, and Tyler raised an eyebrow.

“See? We can’t risk him getting adopted out and taking a chunk out of someone’s kid.”

Finn snorted, and his hand started stroking through Poe’s fur again. It was like a balm, soothing away some of the anger, and Poe laid his head back down. “Tyler, weren’t you the one that brought him back here? Maybe it’s just you he doesn’t like.”

Poe let out a huff of agreement, and Finn must have felt it, because he gave Poe an odd look. 

“Whatever. Come on, let’s get done so I can get out of here. I have a date tonight,” Tyler said as he walked away from the cage. Finn sighed and shifted away from Poe, then knelt and petted him for a few more moments as Poe sat back on his haunches.

“I’m really sorry, boy. I know you don’t understand, but I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this,” Finn said, and though Poe couldn’t cry, his chest tightened like he might. That’s what he’d been saying- that he doesn’t deserve to die like this, and nobody even cared. Not until Finn.

He whined softly and did the closest thing he could to a thank you, which ended up being a slimy lick up Finn’s cheek. Oh well, he’d had more awkward first dates than that, really.

Finn laughed and smiled sadly. “I gotta go, boy. Head up, okay?” he said, and he stood up and slipped out the door. Poe shifted his weight and whined, watching as Finn gave him one last, torn look before he turned and left down the hall.

Poe wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at Finn to come back, to not leave him here to die, but to Finn he was just a dog. A dog who didn’t know the end was coming in mere hours.

But Poe knew. He knew, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it aside from count down.

*** ~~~~~ ***

He didn’t get any sleep that night. But he decided that if he was going to die like this, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

He forced himself to eat some of the disgusting food from his bowl, enough to boost his strength; he knew it was probably a futile effort, that dog paws weren’t exactly built for opening doors, but he had to try. Hell, he’d been shot down in enemy territory before, and he made it out in one piece- he wasn’t about to let some veterinarian get the better of him.

When Tyler came to get him from the cage, he was ready. He braced all four paws, barking out a vicious refrain that would have been _come get me, bitch_ , had it been in English. He bared his teeth and felt the fur stand up all the way down his spine, and Tyler took a step back from the door, blinking in surprise, the pole with the loop on it clutched in his hand.

_That’s right. Bring it_ , Poe said, every word another warning bark, though he wished he felt as confident as he looked. It was intimidation tactics, and he knew it.

Tyler opened the cage just enough to stick the loop end of the pole inside, and Poe immediately went for it, clamping his teeth down on the metal pole and thrashing his head back and forth. It hurt like hell, but he held on as long as he could, till it was wrenched from his mouth. It took Tyler three tries to get the loop around his neck, and he growled and twisted helplessly as he felt it cinch tight into his fur.

“Jesus. Dumb dog,” Tyler muttered, dragging him out of the kennel. Poe felt panic rising in him, his heart racing- he couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t let Tyler drag him into that room. He wasn’t going to die like this, damnit.

Slowly but surely, though, his paws slipped on the smooth floor and the lack of air made it harder to struggle. The door was coming closer and closer, and it felt like he was standing in front of a firing squad as Tyler yanked the door open and started to drag him through.

“Wait!”

Poe’s head jerked toward the familiar voice, and he saw Finn down the hall, a folder clutched in his hand. He barked weakly and his nails scrabbled against the floor as he instinctively tried to move toward his one and only friend here- had he come to say goodbye? Earned him a reprieve?

Poe would be happy with either, really. Any amount of kindness would be nice when he was so tired of fighting.

“What are you doing here? You’re off today,” Tyler said, and Finn smiled brightly and stopped nearly within reach of Poe.

“I know. I adopted him.”

“You _what_?”

“It’s been cleared with the director and everything. He’s going home with me.”

Poe wasn’t sure he was hearing this correctly. Finn had…adopted him? 

No, adopted wasn’t the right word. Finn had saved him.

“Your funeral, man,” Tyler said, and Poe used the opportunity to twist around and wrench the pole from Tyler’s hands. It clattered to the floor and dragged as Poe made a break for Finn, who was quick to kneel down, unafraid as Poe skidded to a stop in front of him.

“He’s not a bad dog,” Finn insisted, and as if to prove his point, he pulled out a normal collar and leash and fastened the collar around Poe’s neck. He pulled off the painful, awkward pole leash, and replaced it with a normal cloth leash clipped to the collar. Finn grinned at Poe, and man, if dogs could grin, Poe was probably doing it right now.

“That better?” Finn asked, and Poe answered with a resounding _fuck yes_ that came out as a happy sounding bark. Joy felt different, somehow, as a dog- it felt like _more_. Sure, he’d felt happiness as a human, but as a dog. That same happiness seemed all encompassing, flooding through him like a high tide until he couldn’t remember the pain or the fear, just for that moment.

Finn stood up and Poe immediately started for the exit, because he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He’d been literally pulled from death row at the last second, and he wanted out, wanted to breathe fresh air and stretch his legs. He could worry about finding a way to change back to human later- right now, he just wanted to enjoy being alive at all.

Luckily, Finn seemed to be on the same wavelength. He kept up as Poe insistently pulled him toward the exit, and in moments they were out on the sidewalk, where a whole new host of smells and sounds and sights threatened to overwhelm. 

“I’ll bet you feel pretty good to be out of there,” Finn said, and Poe would have laughed, if he could have. He let Finn lead the way, and focused on trying to figure out what smell was what- there were so many, and it was so strong, and he suddenly understood how dogs could sniff out drugs and corpses. Hell, they passed one guy in a suit and tie who looked like the perfect picture of a businessman, but Poe caught the unmistakable scent of marijuana as he passed him.

“I’ve never had a dog before, I hope you know. And I told myself I wasn’t gonna fall for any big brown eyes working at the shelter,” Finn was saying as they walked, and Poe really appreciated being spoken to, even if Finn wasn’t aware that the dog understood every word. “But Tyler didn’t even give you a proper evaluation. I checked the papers. He just assumed you were aggressive.”

Asshole, Poe agreed with a huff, and Finn laughed.

“Look at me. I’m talking to a dog. I’m officially losing it,” he said, and Poe whined softly. He didn’t want Finn to stop talking to him. Nobody else seemed to bother, and it made Poe feel more…human.

“Here we are,” Finn announced, turning up the walk toward a small apartment building. He went to a door on the ground floor marked 2187, unlocking the door and leading Poe inside. 

It was a small, sparsely decorated apartment; Finn obviously hadn’t been living here long, if the spartan surroundings and the unpacked boxes were taken into account. But there was furniture, and shelves with carefully organized books and movies, and there was a stack of dog supplies on the table in the half-kitchen. 

“Welcome home, boy,” Finn said, unclipping the leash. For the first time since the...well, accident, Poe was actually unrestrained. No leash, no fences, no car. Poe immediately started exploring, military instincts telling him to pinpoint the entrances and possible exits first.

When he returned to the main room, Finn was sitting on the couch, going through a stack of mail. Poe sat down in front of the couch and strained to read the return addresses- mostly bills, it looked like.

“What am I gonna call you?” Finn asked as he dropped the stack on the coffee table and studied Poe. Poe woofed softly- Finn better not call him something stupid, like Fido.

“How about Fido?”

Poe made a loud, disgruntled noise, and Finn laughed. “Okay, that was definitely a no,” he said, and then his gaze dropped to the lighter patch of fur on one side of Poe’s chest- the fur that looked like the wings on his jacket. “How about Pilot? Looks like you’ve got the badge already and everything.”

Well, it was definitely better than Fido. Poe barked his agreement, and Finn reached over and ruffled his fur. “Pilot it is, then.”

He reached for the remote and turned on the television with a sigh, leaving it on the weather report as he kept going through the mail. Poe was about to go explore again when the next news report made him stop in his tracks.

“Police and family are in the third day of searching for missing Coast Guard Commander Poe Dameron,” the woman was saying, standing in a room that seemed to be a flurry of activity- and behind her, Poe could see his father and Jessika talking to a police officer, Jessika holding a stack of posters in her hands. Missing person posters, with his picture on them.

Poe barked and scrambled over to the television, startling Finn into dropping the mail. The reporter was speaking again, her tone screaming of faux concern. “Mr. Dameron disappeared after his first day of work with the local Coast Guard unit; he hasn’t been seen since he left the office three nights ago. Police haven’t publicized any leads, and the family is asking for anyone with information to come forward.”

The clip changed to an interview with Jessika, and Poe whined and scratched at the TV stand. “He wouldn’t just disappear. He was eager to get back in the air. That’s his whole life,” Jessika was saying to the reporter. “If anyone has any information, please call. We-“

She paused, and Poe’s heart dropped as he saw her swallow hard, her eyes shining with held back tears. “Pilot? What the hell is up with you?” Finn asked, but Poe just whined louder and barked at the television as Jessika continued.

“We’re worried. We miss him. We just want him home,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Finn joined Poe by the television as they showed a picture of Poe in his Air Force uniform, one arm slung around Jessika’s shoulders- he remembered that day. It was his last promotion with the Air Force; Jessika had thrown him a surprise party to congratulate him.

“It’s too bad,” Finn said, following Poe’s gaze to the picture on the television. “This has been all over the news. It’s like he disappeared into thin air or something.”

Poe barked and scratched at the stand desperately- he hadn’t disappeared, he was _right here_ , damnit. He felt Finn’s hand between his shoulder blades, stroking lightly down the raised fur along his spine.

“What’s up with you, huh? Did you know this guy or something?” Finn asked, though his tone was joking. “If he weren’t missing, I’d ask you to introduce me, because damn, he’s good looking.”

Poe turned to look at Finn, and he was suddenly glad dogs couldn’t blush. _Well, if this isn’t some fucked up version of Romeo and Juliet_ , he thought sadly- there was nothing more he’d like to do than take Finn out on a normal date, as a human; sure, maybe the guy was a little young for him, but when you get literally dragged to death’s door, that didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

The news switched over to a different story, and Poe nudged Finn’s arm insistently. The petting was nice, and right now, he really needed it.

It was unbearable, seeing your family and friends worried sick about you like that, and being unable to do a damn thing about it.

*** ~~~~~ ***

The first time Finn tried to make him eat dry dog food, Poe made his displeasure known by tipping the bowl over on the floor. Then he proceeded to try out the most well known weapon of dogs everywhere- he gave Finn the best puppy eyes he could manage until Finn gave him some of the chicken breast he was cooking for dinner.

“You aren’t getting chicken every night. Dogs have to eat dog food, you know,” Finn had said, to which Poe had replied by just licking his lips and wagging his tail until another piece of chicken got tossed his way.

They had a brief argument that consisted of Poe refusing to come out of the coat closet until Finn swore not to mention the word ‘neuter’ ever again in his presence- and yeah, that had to be the strangest first argument Poe had ever had with anyone, and he didn’t even have to say a word to get his point across.

It turned out that Finn was a bit of a pushover. ‘You’re not getting chicken every night’ turned into chopped up chicken mixed in with the dry dog food in the evenings, ‘no dogs on the furniture’ turned into ‘dogs on the furniture only when invited’, and then ‘dogs on the furniture only when the human is on the furniture’, and that quickly turned into ‘god damnit Pilot would you stop hogging the whole fucking couch’. 

Poe was constantly looking for ways to communicate with Finn, to tell him that his dog wasn’t really a dog, but every effort backfired. When he stole the alphabet cereal and tried to spell out words, he got scolded for stealing food and making a mess. When he tried to use his paws to write in the mud at the park, that only ended in a horrified Finn hosing him down with a water hose outside the apartment. And barking at every news report or poster about his human self only ended in Finn assuming that ‘Pilot’s’ former owner had known Poe somehow.

It was beyond frustrating, watching as each report grew more and more grim- chances of finding him alive were being projected as less and less likely, and he saw the exhaustion in his parents and friends grow with every interview and every report. Four days passed, and he was still no closer to figuring out how to get through to anyone- he was beginning to wonder if he would be stuck like this forever. If he would die as a dog, and leave his family without closure.

It wasn’t so bad, being here with Finn. It was boring as hell when he went out to work for the day, and Poe felt helpless when Finn was stressed or lonely, but in those times he would lay his head on Finn’s thigh, just like that first night in the kennel; it seemed to relax both of them. Suddenly the words ‘good boy’ seemed like higher praise than any formal evaluation he’d ever gotten.

He owed Finn his life, and he found he didn’t mind the debt. If he was doomed to die a dog, he would go knowing that he’d done his damn best to repay Finn for what he’d done.

“Come on, Pilot. Let’s take a walk,” Finn said on the evening of the seventh day of Poe being non-human, and Poe leapt down from where he’d been sprawled on the couch, waiting patiently for Finn to clip the leash on his collar. He knew the routine by now, and knew the route- down the side road to the park, around the inside path of the park, then back home. The route passed a dozen posters with his picture on it- he’d counted. His family wasn’t giving up on him despite the ever pessimistic news reports, and he couldn’t help but feel proud of them, that they had that much faith in him.

They took the usual path to the park, the evening air chilly from the breeze off the sea only a fourth of a mile away. Poe looked up wistfully as a helicopter flew overhead, and he couldn’t stifle the whine and the way his tail dipped.

Finn followed his gaze and chuckled. “Wanna live up to your name, huh?” he asked, tugging Poe along. “Maybe one day we can go on a vacation. People take their dogs on vacations, right? That’s not _totally_ weird.”

Poe was glad he didn’t have to break it to Finn that dogs his size weren’t allowed in the cabin of an airplane, usually. But the vacation part sounded nice. Then again, the last four days had been pretty much a really weird vacation- nowhere to go, no one to answer to, no work, no responsibilities- and all Poe could think about was how much he missed his human life.

If he ever got changed back, he was definitely going to ask Finn on a date. A normal, human date, with all the awkward moments and emotional minefields that went along with it.

He might be a little smitten. Honestly, though, who could blame him?

They turned onto one of the narrower, more dimly lit paths, and both dog and human stopped short. Three men stood there, all dressed in dark clothes, and-

Yeah, one of them definitely had a knife clutched in his hand.

“Your wallet, now,” one of the others snapped, and Poe felt apprehension turn to fury in an instant. He planted himself between Finn and the three men, hackles raised, teeth bared- no one threatened his human.

He liked this particular human a lot, thank you very much.

“Call off the dumb dog and give up the wallet, now,” the man demanded, and the one with the knife stepped forward, ready to make good on the threat.

Poe didn’t give him the chance.

He ignored the startled cry from Finn and leapt forward, teeth clamping down on the arm holding the knife. It clattered to the ground and the man yelled, flailing, trying to throw Poe off.

Poe had seen military canine units in action. He knew what they were capable of, and now he felt that instinctual rage, and he directed it, focused it on the threats.

One of the three men ran. Finn dove in and punched the man Poe was holding in place, and the man went down hard.

Then, it felt like the third man punched Poe in the side. He released his hold on the one that had crumpled, a yelp leaving him as the pain turned from blunt impact to fiery, sharp pain that left him stumbling.

He saw a flash of red-streaked metal in the dim light, and he suddenly knew what happened. The third guy had grabbed the knife. That was Poe’s blood. He could feel it now, warm and thick, soaking through the fur on his side. The man tried to slice at Poe again, and Poe snapped, getting a lucky grip right on the guy’s hand.

He couldn’t hold on for long, but he didn’t need to. Finn wrenched the knife free, and then both criminals were getting to their feet, running, and Poe let out a low whine as his legs gave out.

“Pilot!” 

Finn was at his side, a hand pressed to his blood-slicked fur, and Poe blinked a few times, pain and sudden exhaustion tugging at him. Shit, this wasn’t how he wanted this to go- he wanted to find a way to be human again, to thank Finn properly-

Ah, well. Maybe getting those muggers away from him was thanks enough, considering the circumstances.

“Shit. What do I do? Fuck, the vet is closed. Do emergency rooms take dogs?” Finn was saying in a panic, but his voice sounded distant. Poe felt like his whole body was burning up with fever, the pain spreading- a different pain this time, but familiar-

And he was changing. 

Fur turned back to skin and clothes, and it was like stretching after being cramped in a too-small box for a week. The pain was still there, though, even when a stunned Finn was kneeling over a very human Poe; Poe pressed his hand to his side and gasped at the shock of it, like a knife twisting in the wound, his hand bright red with sticky blood.

“This…isn’t how I imagined t-this going,” he admitted, his voice raw from disuse, and Finn took in a sharp breath.

“Oh my god, it’s you. From the TV reports. I…what…how did you…”

Poe groaned and dropped his head back on the dirt path. “Can I explain when I’m not b-bleeding out? It’s…a long story.”

“Right. Shit, yeah, we…we need to get you to the hospital,” Finn said, and then he slid his arms under Poe at the shoulders and knees, lifting him carefully.

Poe mentally added ‘holy hell this guy is strong’ to his list of ‘things I like about Finn’. It was a pretty damn long list by now. Meanwhile, the ‘things I don’t like about Finn’ was significantly shorter, with ‘makes his hot chocolate without marshmallows’ and ‘folds the corners of pages instead of using an actual bookmark’ topping the list.

“…you called me good looking,” he said, the words halting and weak as he let his head cradle against Finn’s shoulder, and Finn sputtered.

“I didn’t know you were my dog. I thought I was talking to, you know, a _dog_.”

“You s-sayin’ I’m not good looking?” Poe asked with a weak smile.

“Are we really talking about this when you’re bleeding all over the place?” Finn asked. They were almost to a main road; Poe just needed to stay awake. Just a little longer. The hospital wasn’t far, if they got a taxi or something.

“Either that or t-talk about how you threatened to neuter me.”

“I thought you were a _dog_!”

Poe started to laugh, but that sent a fresh wave of pain through him, and his vision swam. “H-Hey,” he said, remembering something important. Something he’d promised himself. “Since I’m, y’know…not a dog, are you free tomorrow n-night?”

Finn paused for a moment. “My dog just turned into a human and is bleeding all over me, and now he’s asking me on a date. I’ve lost it. For sure.”

It was getting harder and harder for Poe to keep his eyes open. “S’that a no…?” he asked, the words slurred together, and Finn looked down at him with worry written across his features.

“I’m not going on a date with you if you die. So stay awake. Stay with me, Pi-…Poe. Come on, just hang in there,” he begged, an edge of panic to his voice now as he reached the street. There were people there, and the last thing Poe heard was someone saying they were calling 911.

Poe was just happy with the fact that one of the last things he heard was Finn calling him by his actual name.

*** ~~~~~ ***

Poe felt like he drifted forever. He heard familiar voices, and sometimes a steady beeping noise, but it was a while before he managed to pull himself completely out of the fog.

At first he wondered if it had all been a dream. But when he opened his eyes, there was a dull pain in his right side- obviously dampened by whatever drugs were clouding his mind- and he was in a white hospital room. He blinked a few times to clear the blurriness in his vision, and then he saw his mother, slumped in the chair next to his bed, asleep- and his father standing by the window, his expression grim as he stared outside.

“Dad…?” Poe managed, his voice weak and shaky, but the effect was immediate- Kes Dameron jerked like he’d been grabbed, and in an instant he was at the side of the bed, one hand laid gently on Poe’s arm.

“Thank god,” he said, and he sounded _wrecked_. He sounded like…

Well, like someone whose only child had been missing for a week.

“M’okay,” Poe managed, and his father laughed, blinking back stubborn tears.

“I’m supposed to be the one reassuring _you_ ,” he pointed out, moving his hand to gently stroke Poe’s hair. It reminded him of Finn’s hand between his ears, petting him with one hand while they relaxed and watched television in the evening.

…where was Finn?

“The guy who…who b-brought me in, where…” he tried, though it was hard to string full sentences together. 

“His name is Finn. Said he found you in the park like that. Lucky he did, too,” Kes explained, and Poe couldn’t help but admire Finn’s improvisation. After all, it wasn’t like he could tell them the truth.

Their soft conversation finally woke his mother, and soon Poe was the recipient of a desperate hug from his sobbing mother, and he couldn’t ask about Finn. Not when his mother was telling him how scared she’d been, how they’d never given up looking for him.

When they finally asked where Poe had been, Poe did the only thing he could think of- he claimed he didn’t remember anything before the park. He knew the doctors would blame it on PTSD or something- he would probably be taken off active duty for a time while they made sure he was stable- but he couldn’t tell the truth. No one would believe him. 

Eventually the doctor came in and convinced his parents to leave for a while and let him rest, which he was thankful for; he felt kind of a wreck after seeing how despondent his parents had been. He felt guilty, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

Evidently, the knife had barely missed his liver. He’d lost a lot of blood, and also lost some weight, but he would be fine. Physically, at least.

He wasn’t so sure how he would bounce back from this mentally.

It wasn’t long before Jessika came in, and her expression was some perfect mix of relief and anger. “Dameron, you asshole!” she snapped, moving in to hug him a little too tight. “You’re _never_ allowed to worry me like that again. Ever. You hear me?” she asked, and Poe smiled weakly. 

“Wouldn’t d-dream of it, Pava.”

*** ~~~~~ ***

It was another hour before Finn finally showed up. Poe had managed to wrangle the bed to a propped up position by then, and he smiled brightly when Finn walked through the door.

“About time. Thought you’d split on me,” he said, and Finn looked a little sheepish.

“I wanted to give you time with your family. They were really worried,” he said, hesitating before he moved to stand at the side of the bed. “You saved my life, Poe. I just…thank you, for that.”

“Just returning the favor. You saved mine first, remember?” 

“Man, they were…you knew they were planning to euthanize you. I…I can’t imagine. I’m sorry. If I’d known…”

“You couldn’t have,” Poe pointed out, waving a hand dismissively. “But you saved me anyway. You’re a good man, Finn.”

Poe could have sworn Finn blushed a little at that. “It all makes sense now. The barking at the television, all the weird stuff you did, it…no wonder.”

“Yeah, you don’t really appreciate opposable thumbs until you don’t have them,” Poe said with a chuckle. “So...I didn’t die. Does that mean I get that date?”

“Only if you tell me how the hell you ended up a dog.”

“Deal.”

“But first,” Finn said, and then he hesitated, looking nervous as he leaned in and kissed Poe gently, like he would break at too harsh a touch. Poe relaxed into it, returning the kiss a little more insistently until Finn pulled away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that. But not, you know, when you were bleeding out. Didn’t seem like the right time.”

Poe raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have complained.”

“I thought you were dying, Poe,” Finn said, his voice cracking mid-sentence, and Poe reached up and tugged him into one more quick kiss.

“I couldn’t die. You said if I died you wouldn’t date me. It was good incentive.”

“Right. Now stop stalling and tell me how you turned into a dog.”

For having just watched a dog turn into a guy, Finn handled the rest of the story pretty well, despite how fantastical it sounded. And when Poe’s parents returned and he saw how well they got along with Finn, well.

Maybe he was even more smitten as a human than he’d been as a dog.

*** ~~~~~ ***

One date turned into two, then three, then seven, and eventually turned into Finn’s stuff being moved into Poe’s apartment. The media frenzy on his return had started to die down- the media could only make up crazy stories for so long before they got bored with Poe insisting he didn’t remember a thing, and doctors explaining that PTSD and trauma can cause memory loss.

His family and friends were just happy to have him back alive. And Poe? Poe was happy to be human, doubly so to be alive, and even though he had no luck tracking down the old woman, he couldn’t help but be happy when Finn was around. He returned to active duty after a couple of months, right around the time Finn moved in, and Finn got a job at the veterinary clinic down the street- somehow, saving a dog from death and then that dog ending up being your boyfriend ended up turning into a passion for saving animals.

Poe teased him about how he was probably looking for more good-looking guys who had the misfortune of getting turned into dogs. Finn always responded to that with a half-hearted smack on the shoulder and a joking ‘behave, Pilot, or you’re just getting kibble tonight’.

For living through a fucked up fairy tale, things had turned out rather well. And Poe didn’t argue when one day Finn returned home from work with a skinny tan mess of a cat, a chip out of its ear and a meow that rivaled the volume of the dog barking down the hall. The cat wasn’t so high strung once she got settled, and she quickly earned the nickname ‘Sunshine’, for her tendency to seek out any sunbeams she could find to lay in, even in the heat of the summer.

Poe was reading through performance evaluations on his squadron one evening when he heard Finn take in a sharp breath from where he stood by the laptop that sat open on the desk.

“Poe,” he said slowly. “Poe, you need to come see this.”

Finn’s tone of voice had Poe up and moving instantly, and he found Sunshine sitting by the laptop, looking up at them expectantly. The blank document was still up where Poe had been getting ready to transcribe his notes- but it wasn’t blank anymore.

Instead, there were two ‘words’ on the screen.

**Herlp,m e**

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I grabbed my cat and used his paw to type out that last line. He's not happy with me.


End file.
